A Study In Indigo
by Indigo Avarice
Summary: He never meant to hurt people, in the beginning.  He just wanted them to understand how much he hurt.  Was that so wrong? Viper-centric fic, headcannon deliciousness, rather morbid.
1. Innya

**RATING****: **T, for a lot of things you probably aren't going to like being done to a child. I didn't get graphic in my descriptions, because...while I'm totally capable of writing stuff like that...I didn't think you needed to 'see' it. Also for swearing, and some other stuff.

**A/N: **I wrote and rewrote this story about five hundred times, just trying to do some semblance of justice to my head cannon for Viper. I fiddled with first person and third person and all sorts of crazy narratives, but this seemed to be what I kept coming back to. I'll...probably write something happier after this. =w= I'm such a bad person. -diiiesss-

PS: This was getting long, so I'm splitting the main story into three chapters. After which, I'll probably release a series of 'in between' scenes. The stuff that I kinda glaze over, the stuff that I don't mention at all, that kind of thing. So yeah, it'll be sort of a jumble, but I think that's the charm of it. 8D

I don't own anything and blah blah all of that jazz. You know the drill.

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><p><strong><span>A Study In Indigo<span>**

**Chapter One: Innya**

_By: Indigo Avarice_

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><p><em>Let me start this off by saying that, in the beginning, I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just a child—hurt, abused, confused beyond words. I never understood. I couldn't fathom why everyone hated me so much, why no one wanted anything to do with me. I didn't realize that my mother's soft words were laced with hatred, didn't realize that what my father was doing was wrong. I didn't understand that the other children were just acting as their parents would have them act.<em>

_I didn't get any of it. I was just trying to live, and no one would let me. All I wanted to do was exist._

"I'll deal with this, Miss Petrova."

"Just...get that...thing...out of my class...please."

"Don't worry. She'll be properly dealt with."

Silence. Silence for the duration of the trip home. The small village watched through half-drawn curtains, eyes that peered out to see what was going on. Could anyone blame them? So little happened in this town. It was so rare to see someone different, so rare to see a scene like this. They were just curious...

But curiosity was painful. It should be punishable by death. It just filled her with hatred, made her want to see all of them in as much pain as she was in. She wanted _them_ to be out here, dragged through the streets by their hair, pulled into their own house, thrown on the floor like they were worthless trash. She wanted them to know the pain of the yelling, the words, the tongue lashings that her father gave her. She wanted them to know the pain of what came after, the rope burns and knife wounds and attempts to 'separate the demons'. Wanted them to know how much it hurt when someone you trusted so much violated you so wholly.

Her hands flexed against the ropes, ankles rolled to try and find comfort. She stared at the wall, trying to paint a prettier picture on it. She watched the shadows dance, watched the rhythm that they fell into. Watched the rhythm, felt the rhythm. When the bed started moving, she even heard it, just a little. She imagined that the shadows were friends, at first, imagined that nothing was happening and that they were all having a play date. Then she imagined that the shadows were enemies, imagined that the rhythm was her hate.

She wished a silent hell on everyone in this town. Wished it with every part of herself while she lay in that wretched room afterwards, staring at the ceiling, so very confused. She was only seven. How could she possibly fathom the amount of hate that was thrust upon her day after day after day...?

Children weren't meant to feel such things.

It was hours until her mom finally came into the room.

"Innya..." the woman moved and stroked her hair back, giving her a gentle smile, "...you're alright."

She leaned in and kissed the little girl on the forehead, causing a certain kind of calm to wash through her mind. For a moment, she felt bad for wishing hell upon anyone. For a moment, she forgot all of the bad things and let her mother soothe her.

"Momma..." she wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, holding her close, "...momma it hurts...momma..." it was strange. Her voice was such a soft, cracking sound. Had she been there so long, this time? Had her voice already been lost to pain and fear?

"You're alright, darling. It won't hurt anymore, just give it time...you know...your papa wouldn't have to do this to you if you'd only learn not to hurt the other children."

"...I'm sorry, momma..."

"You were doing so well, too..."

"...I couldn't help it, momma..."

"...what happened?"

She cringed. She couldn't talk to her momma about that stuff, it always made her get a sad look on her face. How could she tell her momma that she'd been playing with the boys again, and that one of the older ones had peeked up her dress? How could she tell her momma that they had noticed the extra thing down there, that they had realized she was...different? That she was funny, that she was strange. That she wasn't _just_ a girl.

"...they stole my toys." she lied softly, violet eyes going distant. She hated lying to her momma. But she had to. If she told the truth, the pain would come again. If she told the truth, papa would come back in here and use the stick. She closed her eyes tight and hugged her mother, "I'm sorry." she whispered into the woman's hair, and her mother petted her softly.

"Normal children would find that upsetting..." he mother whispered back in reply, cradling her daughter close, "...just don't let it happen again."

_They say that, on the day I was born, the doctor told my parents they'd have to make the choice. What kind of life would I live? Would I be a boy, or would I be a girl? My mother, who had always wanted a girl, was the one who decided. My father always resented that decision. Whenever he'd hurt me, he'd call me his 'precious son'. I became so confused that I myself wasn't really sure what I was. My mother wanted me to be a girl. She wanted me to wear the dresses. Wanted me to get a husband and live a full life._

_But my father spoke differently. He said that, no matter what other parts were down there, the fact that one of those was present at all meant I must be a boy. He used it as an excuse, as a crutch. He could hurt his son, it was just discipline. Boys should be able to take this kind of beating, he'd say. But in his mind, his daughter was safe from all of this. He'd never hurt his daughter. He promised that over and over and over again._

No matter the promise she made her mom, it happened again. It happened again a few months later. The little girl was out in the sandbox, minding herself. The other kids rarely played with her, these days. Not since the last time. There had been a lot of talk on playground about whether or not Sven would be coming back. There had been a lot of whispers about how the 'witch' had 'cursed him'.

She hadn't wanted to hurt him so bad that he wouldn't be able to come back. She just couldn't help it. He'd looked up her skirt. He'd seen the extra parts. He'd _touched_ there.

"You should find a different place to play, devil child, no one wants you here."

She looked up, confusion rather outward. Why...why couldn't she just stay here in the sand? Why did everyone always have to drive her away or hurt her? She didn't understand.

"Maybe we should put her in the water and see if she floats."

"Didn't you hear what Sven said, she's not even a _she_."

"Oh yeah! Maybe we should see if we can do anything about that."

"You wanna play doctor?"

"Let's play doctor!"

Panic filled her chest. She just wanted to go, now, she didn't want to play doctor. She stood up, trying to push her way passed to get out of the circle of other children. But she couldn't. Hands grabbed at her arms, at her legs, at her hair. The hem of her skirt got caught under her foot, the sleeve of her blouse got ripped a little. She let out a strangled noise of frustration. Why did they always want to hurt her? Why couldn't she just play in quiet? She didn't understand...she didn't understand.

Words on repeat. Shadows against the sand. Shapes that she wanted to forget. Everything was so painful and unreal...

She was already halfway home when she even realized something was wrong. She sat down on the side of the road, bruises and aches screaming softly as she landed against the stones. She'd somehow been aware enough to pull what was left of her clothes on. She'd somehow managed to wipe some of the blood off in the grass.

Where were the boys?

Why was there blood to wash off at all?

She looked up at the sky just in time to hear the scream.

_I just want you to know that in the beginning I never meant to hurt anyone. Hurting people should never be so easy. Even when they've hurt you. Especially when they've hurt you. Then you just become another monster. You become what they are. You lose your heart, you lose your soul. You lose your ability to sympathize, to understand the weight of your actions. I think that every life we take has a very distinct effect on our soul, every person we hurt, hurts us in kind. I think that imparts a little bit of evil on us, something we can never wash away, something that will be with us until we die._

_But I was evil to begin with. I never had a chance to be clean. So sometimes I wonder if it even matters._

"Innya? My sweet baby..." her mother's arms were such a safe place, such a warm place.

"They say the Fedorov boys were just found strangled to death in the park." her father was pulling on his coat, "I'm going to go down and help them catch the culprit, you two stay here."

**I hope it doesn't have anything to do with that wretched child.**

She looked up from her mother's chest, staring at her father. Why...why was there this echo voice? Where was it coming from? Why...why were the Fedorov boys dead? What happened...why was there blood...? Why did she hurt? Why...?

"Alright, honey...just be careful..." she kept stroking her daughter's hair, carefully brushing it back, humming softly as she did so. "You're alright, baby, you're alright..."

**I hate holding this child.**

She blinked, pressing her face into her mother, trying to hide. The echo voice...it was saying such horrible lie things...she hated it...she just wanted it to shut up.

**The fact that this thing ever came out of me makes me sick.**

"Momma..."

"Yes, sweetie? Is everything alright? Did you see anything with the Fedorov boys?"

**I bet this monster had something to do with it...I bet...**

"...I didn't see...momma I didn't do it...momma I..."

**It's lying. This monster is everything that's wrong with the world. This monster...**

"...momma..."

The door flew open, and her father stormed in. He ripped the child out of her mother's arm, holding her up above the ground by her already-ripped blouse.

"You little bitch!" She cringed. Papa was mad...punishment would follow...she knew how it went...

"Honey! What the hell are you doing to our child?"

"They found her doll at the playground," he spat straight into her face, holding her further away. It was like he couldn't stand to be touching her. She wiggled. She didn't like this...this didn't feel good.

His spit was warm and smelled bad. She raised her arms to hold onto his hand, trying not to get dropped or thrown. It'd hurt to get dropped or thrown...why was papa so mad...? She didn't do it...she didn't...she didn't do it...

"Put her down!" her mother came and slapped her papa in the face, causing him to set her down.

They argued for the next hour. The next three hours. And all she could do was sit there and listen to all the echo voices. All she could do was sit there...and...

Eventually, she fell asleep. Eventually, pain and weakness and confusion won out. Eventually...

She woke up because her mother's perfume filled her nose.

"Momma..."

"Shhh, it's okay. We're taking you to church with us this morning."

**We're going to the church...everything will be better there.**

The echo voice was agreeing...she was tired...she latched her hands into her mother's nice dress, holding on as she was carried.

"Okay momma...let's go to church." she buried her face against her mother, her perfume smelled warm and welcoming. Everything still hurt so much, it was hard to think about anything. She liked church. Everyone acted like they didn't hate her there. She felt welcomed there...she didn't mind it there. But for now, her momma's perfume smelled sweet and warm. And her momma was soft and safe. She drifted back to sleep...no one would hurt her in these arms.

Like too many times in her history, of course...she was wrong. She woke up because she couldn't move. Because it wasn't soft anymore. It was still warm...but it wasn't soft. It smelled like smoke...

Why was there a fire in the church? She needed to tell her momma...! She tried to run, tried to get to her momma to tell her that there was fire in the church. Her limbs felt like they couldn't work, like something was restraining them. Panic filled her chest, her eyes wide and wild. Why couldn't she move? Why was there fire? Why...why...

She screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed. And that's when she realized...that's when she realized. Everyone was here, everyone was at church. They all sat in the pews, dressed in their Sunday best. Everyone stared on with a morbid sense of duty. Everyone was watching. The fire wasn't consuming the church, just the area in front of her. Just the area around her. Just the hem of her skirt. Everyone was staring. The priest was saying some sort of prayer. Her mother was in the front row, crying.

Why was she letting them do this?

"Momma!" she squeaked, coughing on ash and cinder, the heat crawling up her legs, making her skin feel funny. Her lips seemed chapped, all she wanted was some water. All she wanted was out. All she wanted was her momma. "Mom...ma..."

"It'll be better..." her mother whispered.

**With you gone, everyone can be happy. I can be happy.**

Why would the echo voice lie...why would it lie at a time like this? She tried to cry, but her tears seemed to evaporate into the heat just as soon as they reached her cheeks. The fire was licking up around her arms now, her legs had stopped hurting. The fire had hurt at first...but it felt like nothing now...everything was starting to feel like nothing...

Her vision swam. Everyone seemed to be saying things around her, all in those echoy voices. All them were talking about how much better it would be. But they weren't talking...their lips weren't moving...

She didn't do anything wrong. Why were they doing this when she didn't do anything wrong? She didn't hurt the boys...she didn't hurt the boys...she did hurt the boys. The memory of hands on her body, of pain on her skin, of paying them back for what they had done...

"_It would be okay to wisssh for bad thingsss, now."_ A soft voice called. She could see something in the ash, a black outline, a shape. Like one of her shadowy friends from the bedroom.

She was hurting and everyone was happy. But she didn't want to go away. She didn't want to die. Not yet.

She stared out at the church, faces of friends and family staring back at her with those dutiful looks. Her mother's face full of tears, her father's face full of disgust. Some looked away, unable to bear the sight of what was in front of them. She looked down at the fire. She couldn't blame them. It really was disgusting. She looked like she was shedding her skin. She looked back to the crowd. Saw everyone that had ever hurt her. Her teacher who had overlooked the bruises, her father who had caused them. Her mother...who had lied about loving her. The neighbors, the classmates...

And in that moment she hated them all. Every ounce of hatred and disgust that could exist in her small body burst forward. She was going to make them pay like the Fedorov boys did. She was going to make everything better, like her momma wanted.

All of the echo voices stopped. Everything stopped.

She finally got to bring them hell.

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><p><strong>AN: **Next one soon~ Any questions/comments/flaming bananas should be directed to the reviews. I'll try to address any issues you find. 3


	2. Viper

**RATING****: **T. Although this chapter kinda made me think maybe this story is bordering M material...but I think we're still good. Just swearing and some gross scenes. I tried to keep the gore on the minimum for my more squeamish readers.

**A/N: **...I could've tortured people for 3000 words. But I refrained. Because I have a moral code. Or...something. I'm sorry that this took so long to put out—perhaps the fact that it's about a billion pages long will make up for it! I like to think I covered a lot of ground. Hehe~

Special thanks to Withered Black Rose for writing Colonnello in this chapter! Be sure to go check out her story. It's much in the same vein as this one, only it gives you insight into Colonnello's past~! I'm not sure when she'll upload it, but...yeah! If the scene with Colonnello seems to play out in a different writing style than the rest of it, that's because parts were written by her and rewritten by me and so on and so forth.

Also special thanks to Reidluver, SushiBomb, and Fracturingfor the lovely reviews~ And to everyone for being so patient.

I don't own KHR, you know. If you don't know that...well...uhm...

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><p><strong>A Study In Indigo<strong>

**Chapter Two: Viper  
><strong>_By: Indigo Avarice_

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><p><em>I never wanted to hurt them, in the beginning. I used to think that dreaming of hell was such a bad thing. I used to think that wishing anything of the sort onto anyone was such a wicked thing to do. I would tell myself that there was no way I was capable of such evil thoughts.<em>

_I know better, now._

There was blood on her hands. It was registering, now, that there was blood on her hands. Her blood. Blood from her arms, blood from her wrists. Blood from the walls. It took her a moment to think about the walls. Why were the walls bleeding? Why was everyone looking on with those terrified expressions? Someone started screaming. Her momma was still crying. But why was momma crying? Wasn't this going to make everything better? Wasn't this what momma had wanted? Everything would be better once they got to the church, right?

Someone stood, someone headed toward the door.

"_Go ahead. Ssstop him."_ the soft voice suggested,_ "Thisss place isss yoursss, for now."_

Hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the boy who was headed out. He had played doctor with her before. He was one of the bad ones who'd touched things he shouldn't have, seen things that made her momma get the sad wondered if he wanted to play doctor now. Maybe this time he could be the patient.

"Why...why are you going?" she called out, her voice soft. Still a cracked whisper from the smoke and ash and fire that she'd been breathing only moments prior. The boy stopped, stuck in utter terror, facing her with wide eyes. "Don't you...want to play with me?"

She imagined a shirt being flipped inside out. She imagined the inseams, exposed in ways they shouldn't be. She didn't think he'd be like that...she didn't mean for him to be like that...but in a moment, his veins were like the inseams. Everything spilled to the floor in an unattractive heap.

Someone was screaming. Someone was crying. She brought her hands to her head, tears slipping down her face. Had she meant to do that? She was angry. She was hurt. But she didn't want to make him inside out. It just kind of happened. She cast a pleading look back to the crowd, starting to walk down towards them. The pain was gone. Everything would be okay if she could just get to her mother.

"Momma." she croaked, "Momma help...momma please..."

Everything flickered. For a moment she was back on the pulpit, in a heap on the floor, unable to find the strength to move. For a moment, the smoldering ash around her was hot again, the pain was running through her arms and torso. For a moment, the walls were no longer bleeding. For a moment, the boy at the back wasn't inside out. He was just laying there petrified. Dead...? She wasn't sure. But the flash didn't last long. It wasn't long until she was back in the aisle, walking down the pews, fueled by her own hatred. Pushed by the pain and confusion and suffering swirling in her head.

She got it now. It was all part of the hell in her head. The hell she was sharing with everyone here. She looked down at her shaking frame, burnt and deformed. She didn't even look human anymore. She looked like some sort of bad melty monster. Everything was bad.

Someone was screaming. Someone was crying.

She turned to the screaming woman—Miss Petrova, her teacher—who was sitting in the pew across from her momma. Memories of teacher making her sit in the dark cupboard with the rats because she had been bad and scared the other kids flooded her mind. Memories of being beaten with a ruler for not paying attention. Memories of the abuse the other children dealt out being overlooked, just because she was 'strange'. Memories fueled hate again. Hate twisted to hell. Creatures, big ones, shadow friends. Innya bent down and stroked one of them gingerly.

"_What ssshould they do?" _The soft voice asked.

"Teacher's been bad." She responded, voice just as soft. Violet eyes fell to the shaking teacher, judging. Analyzing. She could feel electricity crawl against her soul like a weird taste on her tongue, and like that, her eyes went completely cold. She didn't smile, only frowned, and finally decided. "My friends are hungry."

Innya turned away before she could see her new friends eat. Teacher's screaming only got louder, then. But everyone else went dead silent. Everyone but her momma. Her momma, who was still crying...

"Momma..." she'd made it to her mother. She looked up at the woman, eyes soft again, pleading. What was this...why was everyone hurting her? Why did they make this happen? Why did they make her open up her head and use the bad thoughts? She didn't want to hurt them...but they had to know how much she hurt. She wanted them to know... "...momma." she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, burying her head in the woman's skirt. "Can I sto-"

"GET OFF OF ME!" a shrill voice, and a slap. She stumbled, skin cracking, body falling to the floor in a confused stupor. She lay there, splayed like a porcelain dolls, eyes trained on her mother. In that moment her mind was so very fragile. She wanted her momma to make it better, to let her know that hell could stop now. But what she got instead... "I've never loved you, you wicked little devil child...I always knew you were wrong...I always knew you would open the door way to hell...I should've killed you the moment you came out wrong...defective...you're defective..."

Defective...? The word echoed through her head. Defective. Defective. Defective.

"_The only defective thing here," _the soft voice was right in her ear, little shadow friend on her shoulder, _"isss thisss town."_

Everyone here hurt her. Everyone here wanted her dead. Everyone here. Even her momma. Tears streaked her face, but she no longer felt confused. In that moment, everything was vivid. Perfectly clear, like the sky on a bright day.

Everyone here had to burn.

_The details after that are grim. More grim than I can even describe. More grim than a child should be capable of. But I was so angry. There was so much hate in me. It had to get out somehow, before it consumed my soul entirely. It got out through illusions._

_Even then, I was strong. Strong enough to completely waste the minds of everyone I so hated. By the time I was done, most of them were husks, or dead from the sheer panic. And those who weren't...well...they were trapped. They wanted a trial by fire...and that's what they ended up with._

_Every single person there deserved it. They were just...wrong. There was something wrong with them. That they could all sit and watch so calmly as a child burned before them...there was no saving any of their souls. And honestly, at that point, there was probably no saving me. I would never be innocent or human again. They'd violated too much. I would never again fully understand concepts like trust. My mother had stripped my ability to love. What was left of me? I was just a husk, too._

_That's why it's so funny, you see? I never thought I'd care about someone again, after that day. If you had told me back then that I would feel so protective...that I would love something so much more than I had ever thought I was capable of...I wouldn't have believed you._

_Sometimes it's still hard to believe._

'Now that I have been reborn,' she thought, 'what am I going to call myself?'

Her fingers worked quickly to find what she could in the way of clothing. It needed to cover everything, all the burns. Her powers could mask them, too. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to go so far as to create herself as a lie. Not just yet. Her skin stuck to the fabric, and it took a moment to work it away. She pulled, face contorting into pain. She needed help...she needed a hospital. But that didn't register, not really. It was overcome by the need to hide her shame, her scars.

"_You look like you've jussst shed your ssskin." _The soft voice remarked, red eyes watching carefully, _"Maybe that will help you think."_

She laughed. "I did shed." Her fingers brushed her arms. They didn't look as bad as her legs—which were almost to bone. She didn't know how they'd worked well enough to get her home. She didn't want to know what forces kept her standing. What forces kept the monster standing.

"_In more waysss than one."_

"My name is Viper now." the child touched it's skin. How was it okay? How was it still alive? How was it not dead? It didn't want to know, and yet it wanted to know. A world of curiosity was opened up before it, questions swirling and swirling. "And I think I'll be a boy."

"_Be what you want to, it makesss no difference to me...Viper."_

He smiled gently and picked up his new friend. "I hurt. Let's go find somewhere to get better."

_This new friend of mine would turn out to be the most useful I've ever made. Thanks to Phantasma, I traveled to a few towns over, where a group of Spiritualists helped me heal. Of course, I am not without my scars. Much of my body is still covered to this day, and certain areas of my skin were so badly damaged that they are incapable of true feeling. My legs were, miraculously, still functional, although something was...still is...wrong. For that reason, I began training myself to float rather than truly walk. Steps are easier when I'm not taking weight._

_The Spiritualists believed me to be a medium of great skill. I never corrected them, partially because I didn't know the difference, and partially because I was more than willing to learn everything they could teach in way of controlling my own powers. I learned to focus my misdirected energy, started creating illusions...among other things. They tried to break me of my hatred, though, tried to teach me the beauty of trust and community. It was then that I realized I could never stay with them. I began to wonder what my purpose in the world could be, began to flit from one town to another, never constant. _

_The only thing that remained the same in my life was my new friend._

_My new friend taught me how to silence the echo voices when I didn't want them. Taught me that they were people's thoughts. Hearing the thoughts of others leaves you so distrusting of the human race. Everyone has a hidden agenda. Everyone wants to use you, for something or another. So rarely are people straight forward, so rarely are they honest. Because of this, I learned to value material things. Money is so predictable. It has no motive. Money either exists or it doesn't. You either have wealth and nice things, or you don't. It never lies to you. Never cheats on you. Never makes you feel unwanted. I decided I was going to have wealth and nice things, and I began traveling in search of it._

_I learned a lot as I traveled, became one of the best. It was only a matter of time, with my skills and interests, for me to become involved with the mafia. Somehow it's not surprising to think that I got in with the family that would pay me the most. The Viper of that time was at the height of his greed, just learning that anything could be bought. Just learning to value the coin over all else._

_I guess that's why I adopted 'Viper' as my true name. I liked it more than I'd ever liked Innya. Innya represented everything I wasn't—innocent. Chaste. Pure. Viper seemed so much more fitting. Selfish. Calculating. Willing to destroy what I had to in order to feed my own interests._

"You're the psychic that the old woman was talking about, aren't you?"

The teen looked up from his plate, folding his hands in front of himself. The waitress decided against setting down another glass of water for him, and continued to the next table.

"Viper, right?"

"Who's asking?"

"Callisto is the name," he said with a coy smile, "And I'm just a humble businessman. Interested in doing a little...transaction with you, that's all."

Viper tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful. He could use some more funds. And his work here was more or less done.

"Sit." the illusionist invited, "Talk to me."

"I thought you'd say something like that." The man took the seat across from the boy, pulling a folder out and sliding it across the table. "I heard you can locate people if you have photographs or personal effects of theirs."

He opened the folder up. The face of a girl, perhaps 12 or so, stared out at him happily. Each photo seemed brighter than the next, each smile more vibrant than the one before it. He made a scoff noise at the folder, and closed it again, violet eyes falling on the man across from him.

"I don't do pity cases—I won't help you find a little girl."

He hated children. They were like little sponges, never thinking for themselves and absorbing the opinions of adults. As he remembered them, they were unintentionally cruel. Besides, he somehow doubted that this man could afford whatever price he'd set forth. His bet was on this being an abduction case. He didn't need useless things like someone else's bad parenting dragging down his actions.

"It's not a pity case—there's good money in it for you. Whatever you ask for." the man smiled, and Viper felt a slimy presence crawl through his soul.

_'He feelsss like decay,' _the soft voice called into his head, _'let usss sssee what it is he wantsss. Perhapsss it could be...advantageousss.'_

If Phantasma had taken interest, Viper had to at least check it out.

"You want me to find her?" He asked, taking the folder into his arms and slipping a few coins on the table to pay for his food, "Fine. Who was the last person to see her?"

"I was." the man's smile had died down, and he looked...worried? Viper couldn't quite pin the emotion. He opened himself a little bit, testing the air for the other's thoughts...but the slimy feeling crawled across him like pure violation, crawled a little too close to his own mind. The psychic withdrew with a small shudder.

_'Very rotten.' _Phantasma chided, _'Watch yourssself.'_

_Now, let me try to explain for a moment. I'm not pure, I never have been. I'm not clean, nor 'holy'. If anything, I'm tainted. I have no doubt that my own psychic scent is doused in the unpleasant aroma of demons, death, and greed. But there are different feels to people's auras, different kinds of taint. I've since learned to identify different 'smells', so to speak. Murderous intent doesn't bother me as much as some of the others—I'd never be able to survive life with the other Varia members if I wasn't well and over that. But there are certain sins, certain demons that we accept into ourselves that reek beyond compare._

_This man was one of those._

_He fed me a story, part of it truthful, about being the head of a prominent mafia family in Italy. He told me that this girl, his daughter, had been abducted by another family. That she was being used to achieve that family's goals, leverage over his own. He explained that it was of the utmost importance that she be returned, safe, as quickly as possible. He promised me a rather attractive sum just to locate her—but even more if I would lend my assistance as an illusionist and psychic to retrieve her._

_I saw this as both a paycheck, and an in to the mafia. I knew that I could make good bank if I slipped into the system of blood, money, sex, and betrayal that the underground world entailed. I liked the thought of that. So I helped him. I tracked the girl, and helped him fight to the center of a prominent base to retrieve her._

_I shouldn't have been surprised by what I found out there. It seems strange that the thought hadn't occurred to me, cynical as I am. That there could possibly be more to this. But I was a teen. I wasn't thinking. And even I had a hard time fathoming what was before me when I opened that door..._

"Daddy! Daddy! Help me please!"

There were no henchmen in with the girl, she was just tied to the wall, bleeding profusely. Her father was somewhere behind Viper, closing in on the room. Viper judged that he could probably get her down, it wouldn't take much to break those chains.

"Your father is coming." he assured, although his uninterested tone was probably not altogether too comforting. "...you'll be alright." he added awkwardly, moving to unchain her.

"Th-thank you..." she was trembling, crying. Viper tried not to look. He didn't want to see. He wanted to come off as detached as possible but...what had they done to her? Things like what had been done to him? He couldn't help but wonder. Couldn't help but think no one involved in this had died painfully enough. "...d-don't...hurt me...p-...plea...se..."

His fingers slipped on the chains a bit. Her voice was so raspy, so broken. Almost familiar...almost like...

"Worrying is so useless, you'll be—"

He felt a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes went wide. What had...what was...? His brain suddenly felt slow, mushy. Like someone had dulled all of his senses. He tried to remember why he hadn't been using a stand in. Tried to remember why he, physically, was in this building. No excuse seemed reasonable. He had been so foolish, too foolish. He never should have...

Everything went black.

The blackness lasted for a long, long time. There was nothing here, nothing but the whispers of shadow friends and crying and screaming and the laughter of little boys playing doctor. It felt like it would be forever. That this was it. All there ever would be...and then a soft voice broke through, like a gentle reminder. A prod.

_'Sssomeone needsss to wake up, now.'_

He gasped. The room was lavish, decorated in rustic browns and yellows. His wrists were bound to the bed, his ankles. His head still felt...wrong. His whole body felt wrong. Like mush.

"So good of you to wake up." the man's voice said. His employer. Callisto. Violet eyes fell on him, hate seething in waves. But that was all. Only hate. Viper would never let off any other emotions, he never did. Hate was the only extreme for him, the only choice. All other emotions created venerability.

"Hnnf. What exactly is..." he felt dizzy for a moment, and had to wait to recover, "...what exactly is this? What did you..."

"That fuzzy feeling? Aaah, it's medication." he waved a needle, "Don't be alarmed if your powers seem a little..." a smirk came to his face, the slimy one from before, "...flaccid. I've just dulled your senses for a little while, your mind. The key to illusionists, I've learned."

_'Bassstard...'_

"So." he continued, twirling the needle. "I have...a proposition for you...I'd like you to come work for me. Join my family. Be _mine_ and mine alone." Callisto licked his lips, setting the needle down on the bedside table and walking to the bed. A shiver ran up Viper's spine as his side was stroked, then his shoulder, then his face. "You're such a talented illusionist, a rare breed. Useful, these days." he leaned in, breathing against Viper's ear, "I could use someone like you."

"Why..." Viper had to stop and think. The gears in his head were turning dangerously slow, "...go about it this way? You've realized by now that I..."

"Have a price? Aaah, yes, you've demonstrated that nicely. But I'm not the only one who's noticed what you're doing over here, you adorable little Russian whore. There are plenty of families that would love to approach you about working for them full time...so I decided I should work on getting an...edge."

"What's your edge?" It was taking all of his control not to show any weakness. Not to show a single ounce of fear, although the prospect of being bound by a stranger was obviously seeping into his core. He hated being powerless. It reminded him too much of the way Innya always was.

"Your fear." he grabbed Viper by the jaw, staring into his eyes. The smirk returned. "You're very good, you know. You keep such a solid front, like you're some unapproachable, untouchable enigma. You seem to care about nothing but the money but...when you saw my daughter, bound in chains, I noticed it. A hesitation in you. You know what gives it away?" he tapped Viper's temple, leaning in and licking the side of his face, "It's your eyes. Your eyes really are the window to your soul—and your soul is just a scared child."

_It shook me. It shook me to the very core that someone had seen through me, that someone was violating the most guarded parts of my self, and from that day on I covered my eyes. I didn't want anyone else seeing through the windows. I didn't want anyone else to be able to understand my soul. That was my business, and mine alone. I doubt I need it, these days. I worked hard to finally stop being scared. To rip myself away from all traces of Innya. But the habit has never stopped. I don't trust people with my eyes...or maybe it's that I don't trust my eyes not to tell others the truth. _

_I started working for him. I had no choice, in my mind, but to work for him. Besides, this had been exactly the in I had wanted. So I joined his family, tortured his enemies. Did whatever he asked, as long as he paid. Anything he asked. Callisto was touchy, and very possessive. He got it in his head that I was an object. That he owned me...and to an extent, he was correct. Every time he used me, he paid me...and as long as I was getting paid, I didn't mind._

_I was all about my own interests. And my own interests were money._

_There's time here. Time that passes. Things that happen to me, life experiences. But these are all insignificant. They're a lump of thing after thing, the building of Viper. There's something more important. An odd subject._

_A new family, of sorts. People who tried too hard to get close. People who...maybe were more successful than I'd like to say._

"Viper, darling," the young woman sat down across from the illusionist, her hand resting gently on the protrusion in her stomach. This was normal, for Luce. It was as if she had to gently remind herself that the baby existed.

"Hnn?"

"Would you like anything to drink?"

He shook his head, staring past her. Not that it mattered. She couldn't see his eyes. But with Luce, he got this terrible feeling that it made no difference if she could see his eyes or not—she had a way with people. He suspected she already knew every secret in his soul. And, oddly enough, as long as she kept them to herself...he wasn't sure he minded.

"Are you sure?" she shifted and gently touched the pot of espresso that was no doubt waiting for a certain attractive hitman, "It's nice and warm."

"I don't drink coffee." He offered no further explanation, laying his hands down on the table and leaning back in his chair. He could see Lal and that idiot student of hers outside. She'd insisted that she needed to continue his training, and Luce had approved his being here. But he was right up with Skull on the list of people Viper hated being in a room with. He was glad the blonde was outside. "I just realized I have something to do in my room."

"Of course, Viper," Luce's smile seemed to wane ever so slightly, the slightest hint of sympathy in her eyes. Viper couldn't stand to look at it. So he stood up and went to his room.

Once there, he closed the door and moved to the bed. It was hard, sometimes...dealing with Luce. To think that she felt so bad for his situation even though she didn't know how much he deserved the loneliness...it made him sick. He sat on the bed and drew his knees up under his chin, leaning on them.

It wasn't long until two knocks broke his concentration.

"Heeeeyyyy! You in there, kora? Luce sent me with something! Said she forgot to give it to you...kora? Heeeeellooooo?" Colonnello's voice was loud, annoying, and cheerful. Nothing that Viper wasn't used to—they seemed to be the boy's main traits. And no amount of telling him just how annoying he was ever seemed to penetrate his skull—he always just chuckled and laughed it off, not really minding the insult.

Viper sighed. He might as well let him in, if it was something from Luce.

"Come in." he stated blandly, unfolding his legs and rearranging himself so it looked like he was just counting a few bills, "But please lower your voice before you do so, hnf...you'll give me a headache."

Slowly, the knob twisted and shortly there was a blonde, poking his head around the door as if to make sure Viper wasn't indecent. He then walked in fully and approached the bed. "Luce said I should give you this, kora." He dropped a small bundle of blankets onto the bed, rustling and covering a few of the bills. Viper made a noise of annoyance, fingers moving quickly to pull the other bills close and tuck them away in his clothes. "Said it's suppose to be cold tonight and she wouldn't want you freezing to death cause you're too busy counting money. Which seems a little silly to me kora, but..." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I won't get cold," he shot back—maybe if he could be blunt and curt enough, the blonde would get out of his hair, "but I suppose you should pass a thank you to Luce for me, anyway."

"Awww, you don't know that. I know you're wearing three layers or so, but it IS winter. So you might get cold." Not getting the hint, Colonnello smiled and gently sat down on a corner of the bed, making himself right at home. "So why do you sit in here counting money all the time? You hardly come down, even for meal times. Do you like it that much?"

"Of course I like money that much. Besides, with this many other people around, there's no telling who'll take what from who," he shrugged. It was only half true—he didn't trust that Skull wouldn't come in here and help himself to whatever. But mostly the reason he holed himself up, was Luce. Mostly it was everyone. Mostly it was that he didn't want to get close to anyone...mostly...he zoned out for a minute, thinking about it. He hardly caught the next sentence from Colonnello.

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Skull—I assume that's who we're talking about?—would probably rob you blind. But still. I'm sure as a skilled illusionist you could find ways to keep him out of your room. You really should come down more, kora. I'll even make sure Skull doesn't bug you, okay?" He grinned. It was big, and goofy, and Viper found it utterly annoying. Viper let out another soft scoff and turned so he didn't have to look at Colonnello. Alright, so...there was the hole in his cover. He could keep his money plenty safe, he didn't have to be here with it...but he wouldn't admit to that. Never.

"I'll...consider coming out of my room more often." By that he meant he would consider sending an illusion out more often...but if agreeing would make the other leave, he was all for it.

"Great! How about starting right now?" Colonnello bounded up and rocked back on his feet, energy popping out all at once. The entire motion was so very puppy-like—energetic and annoying. He grabbed Viper's arm and jerked him to his feet. The illusionist tried to shrink from his grasp, but the other had him caught before he could make the motion. "Come on, kora! Let's go do something in the fresh air, kora! I'll bet you don't get enough of it, kora."

"I said I'd consider it, not that we could go out and smell the roses..." his voice was still a mutter, though, nothing more forceful.

That's when it happened. Colonnello's energy seemed to shift, the big puppy melting into something...calmer. Almost understanding. It took Viper back for a moment.

"Look, kora. I know you don't like going outside and being around the others. But they're really not that bad and I'll make sure that Skull and Verde leave you alone, okay?" His grip on the small psychic's hand tightened, just enough so that he couldn't slip away. "I'll be your new protector and best friend, alright, kora?"

Viper's face darkened, and he looked away. "I don't accept friendship, it's a completely worthless practice." He'd never had a friend who hadn't betrayed him. He'd never trusted himself with anyone else, not for a long time. But part of him...part of him wanted to believe that there was someone out there who could be trusted. Part of him...no. A larger part of him nagged that if there was someone in the world he should trust, this horribly annoying, loud army brat wasn't it. "But if you're offering to ward off Skull and Verde for free, I may have to consider at least that option." it had come out before he could stop it. But Skull was more annoying than Colonnello...right? Maybe the two would counteract one another.

A sudden laugh broke Viper's concentration.

"Oh...I see..." Colonnello muttered softly. He looked down, thinking hard. After a minute he looked back and there was a deep understanding and compassion in his eyes. "You've been hurt, haven't you, kora? That's okay. So have I. So I'll understand if you're weary around us. But you can't stay that way. I'm going to help you get involved with us. You'll see. It's easy if you just take a chance." His eyes stared straight at that black hood, almost as if he could see past it into the eyes of the little illusionist, and for a moment, Viper's heart fell. He'd tried so hard to not let anyone know. To not let them see the hurt. Why could this boy do it? He swallowed the lump that was sitting in his throat, and shook his head, but the motion went ignored as the blonde continued, "And yes, I'll help you ward off Verde and Skull-the-twit. Deal?"

"I don't want to get more involved than the job requires." he stated softly, and sighed, trying to slip away from the moment of almost-trust that had passed here. But he could see that agreeing was the only choice...although he didn't know why it was the only choice. He tried to convince himself it was just to get Colonnello to leave him alone for now, but...that logic was backward...Colonnello would be spending all day with him if he agreed... "Fine. You keep those two away from me, and I'll tolerate you...at least for a while."

"Of course!" The other shrugged his shoulders and grinned, his eyes closing happily as he did. "And hey, if we somehow manage to become friends during all this, so much the better." He laughed heartily, and walked over to the door, putting one hand on the doorknob and waiting. "So, ready to out there and try to have fun?"

The small illusionist averted his eyes, even if Colonnello couldn't see them...it felt like he could. "I doubt that will happen but...fine," he moved towards the door, keeping a small distance between the blonde and himself, "I'll humor you."

Colonnello just smiled, but somehow it seemed bittersweet. "I'm sure it won't, not yet. All in good time, yeah?" He opened the door and moved off down the hall. Viper hesitated for a moment. He had a choice to make. He could stay here, and just close the door, or he could follow the other down the hallway and test his fate.

Testing his fate rarely worked out for the best but...

...he would give that army brat this one chance. Just this one.

_That chance was a dangerous thing. It opened the doors to my heart in a way that hadn't been done in a long time, left me weak. I grew too comfortable with my own emotions again, and when I do that, people get hurt. But that's all boring. It's nothing to be talked about. What you'll find interesting here...what anyone would find interesting...is a single word:_

_Arcobaleno. As much as you'd probably like me to, it's a part of my life I'd rather not talk about it. It's long and full of things that I'm not sure you'd understand. It's filled with people trying to care about me, and it ends with anger and disgust. But none of that is worth telling. Just know that it happened. Know that 'Viper' realized he was getting too soft. Know that he began to trust Luce, and to an extent the others. Know that he thought of them as family, in a way...and that's why he grew to hate himself. _

_Viper became connected to feeling again. He became venerable again. He became readable again. It was then that I knew that it was once again time to shed my skin. After we received this wretched curse, after we went our own ways. It was time, and I knew it. Viper had to go away. Something new had to be born. Something selfish and without attachment. Something...colder. Greed and avarice itself._

_This time, it called itself Mammon._

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**Per usual let me know how you felt! Feel free to burn me at the stake or whatever for being so...I don't know...xD Whatever I am.


	3. Mammon

**RATING****: **T, because of...uhm...kissing? And the existence of Squalo.

**A/N: **After all this, there's only one thing I can say: **I'm sorry if you think there's too much Bammon in this chapter.** I just love them...and in my fannon it's a huge part of Mammon's growth so eeeeh. Who doesn't like Bammon, anyway? You'd just be insane.

By the way, this is the last chapter. Feels a little sad, don't it? Don't worry, I plan on doing...more. Anywaaaay.

Oh yeah! And special thanks to the usual culprits~ I love you guys.

I don't own anything but my own writing or something to that effect. KHR, the English language, strawberry milk, and adorable bunny rabbits are all property of their respective owners.

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><p><strong>A Study In Indigo<strong>

**Chapter Three: Mammon_  
><em>**_By: Indigo Avarice_

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><p><em>I guess this is where it starts to get interesting for you, right? This is where I answer all of your questions. This is where you find out how a jaded, soulless creature such as myself learns to care about others. To be honest with you, I myself don't truly know how to answer your question. I don't know why or how or when I started caring about him so much. I don't know when I started thinking of this group of misfits as family—albeit a little dysfunctional. I'm not sure when the line started to blur, between me doing these missions for money and me doing these missions because I enjoyed the time we all spent together, or because I was worried about what might happen to the others if I wasn't there. I've since then used the money as a front, of course, I still say that I'll only work for a price. I still get paid. I'm not cheap, and I'm certainly not free. But there's more to it now. It's complicated.<em>

_If I didn't know myself better, I'd say that I finally learned to enjoy living._

"Mammon~"

The Arcobaleno looked up from his pile of coins, which he'd been stacking into neat little increments. The blonde behind him was grinning—not an unusual sight—and holding two cups.

"Hnnf. Bel, I'm busy right now." He focused back down on the coins, but that didn't stop the other from coming over and taking a seat. It rarely did. People in the Varia did whatever they wanted to, whenever it struck their fancy. And Mammon wasn't about to complain, not really, anyway. He knew what was in that cup and he wanted it.

"The Prince has brought his annoying little baby an afternoon snack~" he set the glass down, the pink liquid settling after a few seconds. Mammon eyed it, trying not to let his mouth twitch a single centimeter from his usual deadpan frown.

But for some odd reason, Belphegor seemed to realize that Mammon was smiling on the inside.

"Ushishi~ The Prince knew this one was your favorite~"

Annoying, Mammon thought. This whole week, Bel had made it his single-handed quest to find out which drink was 'his little baby's favorite~'. After a barrage of alcoholic drinks, (none of which the child touched. He wasn't fond of alcohol. He'd always had a low tolerance for it, even more so now that his body was smaller. Not to mention it made his powers act up in unusual and hard to control ways, often leading to unwanted illusion worlds filled with adorable bunny rabbits) and a collection of different teas, juices, and finally, flavored milks, Bel seemed to have found the one that the baby couldn't resist drinking.

He reached out and accepted the glass, sipping it as slowly as he could convince himself to.

"...thank you." Mammon said, scooting a stack of coins over to Bel. "You win."

Bel seemed silenced by his own sense of self fulfillment for a moment, before pushing the coins back towards Mammon and grinning. "The Prince wants a better prize."

Mammon made a noise and stared at the other. "What..." he sighed, "...would be more suitable?"

Bel didn't say anything, just plucked the little Arcobaleno up and carried him off away from his precious coins.

"Bel!" Mammon argued, but he didn't appear to be getting anywhere with this. Besides...if he struggled too much he'd spill his strawberry milk all over Belphegor, and the last thing he wanted to do was waste the drink. "Put me down."

"No."

"Put me down."

"Absolutely not~"

"Bel..."

"You can't order the Prince to do anything~"

Mammon sighed. This venture seemed pointless, so he stopped struggling and let Belphegor drag him to his room, and plop him on his bed.

"So what's your price?"

"The Prince would like to know what the baby looked like as an adult."

Mammon's eyebrows arched. It seemed like such a pointless request, so terribly strange.

"No," he responded, "it's impossible."

The blonde sat on the bed, folding his legs underneath himself and leaning in close to the arcobaleno.

"But The Prince thought that Mammon was one of the best illusionists there is."

Silence fell for a moment. An illusion? Why had the thought never occurred to him? He leaned back a little on the other's bed, staring at the sheets in thought. An illusion. He made replicas of himself all of the time, it was one of his favorite tricks, but he had never thought to use illusions to alter his appearance...at least, not to alter his appearance back to how it once had been.

The theory was intriguing.

"Fine. I'll try it, just this once...but if I don't succeed, you'll just have to settle for another—"

"The Prince wasn't done." Bel fought back with a pout, folding his arms across his chest in defiance.

He looked like more of a child than the baby ever did. Mammon let out a little sigh, and stared at Prince the Pouter from behind his hood. "Alright, then, what's the rest of your price?"

"A kiss. Once the baby looks older."

The arcobaleno tried not to let color flush onto his cheeks. What a strange request indeed, but...he couldn't say he was surprised. Belphegor was perhaps the most puzzling member of the Varia—maybe the most puzzling person in the entire world—that he had encountered so far. A sociopath of some degree, for certain, the bloody prince had absolutely no mercy in battle. His ways were often cruel and unusual, like a wild cat playing with it's food before the kill. His past was dark, and just as bloody as his present, and yet...and yet...

Despite all of that, Bel had been the first person Mammon could call 'friend' in a long while. His possessive nature in regards to the arcobaleno was almost endearing. Even though Mammon rarely used his own physical form in a fight, he could always count on Bel to have his back if they were partnered for an assignment. Even though Mammon could easily levitate or teleport throughout the Varia mansion, he could always count on Bel to pluck him up after meal times and carry him to his room—and although the illusionist would've usually found actions such as these to be annoying and overbearing, Bel seemed to have a certain way of knowing that sometimes he had to leave the arcobaleno alone.

Or that sometimes sitting together in silence was the best way for them to spend their days.

This favorite-drink-finding-antic was a little annoying, sure, but even this seemed to be done out of affectionate jest rather than a true want to wear on the illusionist's nerves—which was more than could be said about Belphegor's every action in regards to a particular long-haired commander they knew.

"One kiss." Mammon finally agreed.

"Just one."

"On the cheek."

"On the lips."

"A quick one." Mammon shot back, furrowing his brow.

"The Prince agrees to these terms~" he patted the little arcobaleno on the head and leaned back, "Now try."

He sighed. He had promised. The theory was interesting. But the pressing thought of the kiss that would follow kept flushing his cheeks, which caused his mind to be very...elsewhere. It took a few good tries. One. Two. Three.

He focused...and then...

"As beautiful as I thought." Bel declared, "I'm definitely getting that kiss."

Mammon sighed, looking down at himself. The illusion was solid, like the perfect casing over his actual body—an alteration of his actual appearance rather than a projection. That could be altered, played with, changed. He could use this to his advantage...

"Mammon," a hand clasped over his, pulling him closer and closer until he could feel two bodies pressed together, "...that kiss now?"

"Ahh...alright." There was no other choice. It was just a little kiss. He'd done worse than that with strangers for a small price...so why did this feel so...different?

Why were his cheeks bright red under his hood?

Carefully, he leaned up, trying to make sure that his hood didn't budge, didn't give away the pink flush it was hiding. Once he'd extended to eye level, he let out a shaken breath against the other's lips.

"Brace yourself, this is only happening once."

"Of course~"

"I mean it." He fought back, and pressed their lips together in a swift motion.

Well, it was meant to be a swift motion, anyway. But that was kind of hard, because the second their skin made contact, the prince wrapped his arms around the arcobaleno, holding his waist, and then the back of his head. For a moment, Mammon felt a sense of panic creep up into his being. What the hell was Bel up to? He tried to jerk backward, but the hand on his head was unrelenting. Using the leverage he had, the blonde tipped Mammon back just slightly, moving his head to the side to get better access to their already melded lips.

Mammon pushed against the other's chest gently, trying to urge him off, but once again to no avail.

And that was when the other broke the kiss. He didn't let go, didn't move away, just hovered. Something inside the illusionist fluttered, a warm, awkward sensation pouring into his chest. And, as if guided by it's own second mind, his hand moved up to the prince's cheek. It rested there for a moment, thumb brushing soft skin, feeling familiar cheekbones under the tips of the other's bangs. And then...and then...as if possessed by the growing warmth inside of him, he gently brushed those bangs back.

Bel didn't say anything. He just blinked, not making a single movement. For a second, things seemed frozen in that awkward aftermath. For a second, the only sound that Mammon could hear was the loud fluttering of his own heart. The only thing he could feel was that fast, dull thump.

And then he felt warmth. A gentle connection of skin as their lips met again. Only this time, the arcobaleno didn't try to push away. In fact, he tried to move closer. He was so lost in the connection, so occupied with the gentle nibbling on his bottom lip, that he didn't notice or care when the blonde pulled back his hood. He didn't mind when he broke the kiss and moved back, the eyes that the both of them hid from the world locking in a moment of sincere...

...Mammon was unfamiliar with the emotion behind either of their gazes. The only thing he could find similar was to say that it was happiness. They were both...happy. But deeper than happy. More than happy.

"The baby's eyes are just as beautiful..." Bel suddenly latched onto Mammon, pulling the other's head into the crook of his neck, rocking him back and forth, "...they're mine, okay? Just mine..."

There was something in those words. The hints of someone who'd been hurt, badly. Like recognized like. Mammon knew that tone, as much as he hated to admit it. Viper knew that tone. Innya knew that tone. It was desperate. Needy. Wanting.

When Mammon didn't respond, the prince pulled him backward and locked eyes with him again. "Just mine, okay?"

The illusionist's lips curled into a gentle smile, and he bumped noses with Bel, touching their foreheads together.

"Just yours," he whispered against the other's skin, "only yours."

And he knew that he meant every word he was saying.

_Everything was different after that first kiss. I know you'd probably rather I spare you the details, but I think it's just as important as anything else I've told you. Me and Bel...we trusted each other. More than I'd ever trusted anyone. Eventually, I laid all of my secrets bare to him. Let him inside my very self._

_And he never, never made me feel any less for it._

_But that's not the point, at the moment, no. The point is, after I learned to trust one...it was easier to trust all. I grew to care for the Varia like they were my family. And they were. In a way that I don't think any of us really realize, we care for each other. Sure, not in the conventional way that other people care for one another but...enough. Enough for how broken we all are._

_Maybe that's why it was so hard, when I started to deteriorate. I tried to hide it from all of them, especially Bel. But I couldn't, not forever. And although no one but him would say it outright, I think a lot of us were scared, myself included, for what would happen if I..._

"...Mammon?"

The dull throb of pain was crushing in around his skull, his skin crawled with the complete _not __rightness_ of it all. Every moment was a labor. Every second he could feel his life crashing in around his heart.

He hadn't ever liked pain. He hated it...

"...Mammon?"

There was a voice somewhere beyond that pain. He stopped leaning against the wall for a moment and turned, catching sight of the troubled prince that had bent down to meet his eye level.

"How much longer?"

There was something so wrong about the slight quiver in that voice, the smallest hint of fear. Far worse than the physical pain of degrading like this, was the emotional shot to the heart that voice sent coursing through the arcobaleno.

"Not long."

He tried to sound the way he always did. Tried to be disinterested, almost rude. But it was more of a whisper. The musings of a scared, hurt child. He lowered his head even more, trying—hoping—that his hood would cover the way his lip trembled, the way his eyes stung.

But looking down made him miss it, the look that flashed across the other's face as he picked up the baby, holding him close to his chest. The elevation didn't last long, though—soon enough the blonde was sliding down the wall, Mammon still held to his chest, drawing his entire self around the child as though that would protect him from the harmful world outside.

"Does my annoying little baby want...something to..."

A pause. A heave of a chest. A small quiver. A single breath.

The signs of someone trying to regain their calm. Trying to cling to their sanity. For one more moment...one more moment...

"Shhhh." He moved and pressed a small hand to the other's lips, raising himself so they could bump noses, "We don't have to talk. We can just sit."

"The Prince usually likes death..."

"Bel..."

"...but this time it's..."

"...Bel, please..."

"...there's absolutely nothing..."

"...you need to stop thinking about it..."

"...everything is...sad...painful...different..."

"...there's nothing you can-"

"...I care about you so much."

It was a whisper. So soft that Mammon hardly heard it. Impossibly quiet. As though Bel himself wasn't sure what the words really meant, but knew that they had to be said. That they were true.

The child stretched up again, hand gently moving to the other's cheek. The trail of wetness was surprising. It wasn't what he'd expected to find. His little fingers moved to the curtain of hair that always covered the other's eyes, and brushed it back gently. He stretched up even more, straining despite the pain coursing through his veins, and his lips found the other's cheek.

The illusion was simple. He'd done it multiple times. He just hadn't tried since the pain had set in. But it didn't take much focus or thinking. It was as natural as a second skin, taking his old form. He leaned against the other's chest, closing his eyes for a moment and just listening to the soft thump of Bel's heart.

"I know," he whispered, "I'm going to try...not to leave you."

The pain was a reminder of how hard that would be. Each movement was labored. Somewhere inside of himself, he already knew it was too late. But he could keep lying to Bel a little bit longer.

"Let's go to your room."

_No matter the situation, I always felt my age. I remembered that under the exterior I was cursed with, I was the adult. And my time of weakness well...it was his, too. He felt it with me, pained over the thought of losing me. Some...probably you included...would argue that it was nothing more than the feeling a child experiences over the loss of a favorite toy. But...I know better. I was his friend. We accepted one another, for everything we were. He didn't care that I wasn't male...wasn't female. He wouldn't have cared if I had told him I was part octopus. One of the more favorable aspects of the insane is that they aren't very judgmental._

_But there was only so long I could protect him from the harsh reality of it. With the others dying, I began to feel the pressure of what was happening. Began to realize that I had no choice. We were going to have to do **something**._

_I never wanted that something to take me away from Belphegor. Please believe me when I tell you that I do love him...so much more than I love anyone else. I suppose prattle like that is lost on you, probably just makes you sick to hear. But I've never had to make a harder choice than the one I made that day._

_I never thought it would be so hard. Never thought it would be Colonnello. I never thought that anything would change the way I thought about the world. I never thought something would mean so much more than my own life...  
><em>

It came too fast. Everything was moving too fast. The strain of living, the strain of the fight...he was too far drained. There was nothing he could do. He was already on his hands and knees. He was going to die. This was the end. It was over.

"Viper! Watch out!"

He couldn't obey that command. It was too fast. It was too...

It happened faster than he could see it. Movement, yellow and green and then...red. Impossibly red. Too much...red...

"Colonello!"

The rain arcobaleno looked up from his place on the floor, face contorting into a gentle smile. A _smile_. At a time like this, it seemed so strange. So foreign. So wrong.

"Viper...you have to know..." the words were strained, heaved through the labored breaths of someone who was quickly fading, "...I never...no one could...Innya, Viper, Mammon...they're all..."

Why was he trying to say this? Why now? Why, when he should be trying to live? Why was it Colonnello? Why, when Innya was the wicked one? Why, when Viper was the one who had abandoned him? Why, when Mammon had never learned to care? Why...why...

Why?

"...it's just...don't forget...no matter what you call yourself...no matter...what you say you are...people do...care about y-"

The sound of laughter, and the hit of a second attack ended it. Colonnello was dead before he could even gasp out his last words. The smile was still transfixed on his face, gentle and just as _right _as it ever had been. He never stopped...always...brighter...

_It was somewhere right then. In those final moments, I thought. I thought and all I could think about was that lifeless pacifier on Colonnello's chest. All I could think about was the fact that it was going to be with the very people he had tried so hard to keep it away from. All I could think about was the fact that I had enough energy in me to teleport one more time. All I could think about was the fact that it could be me, or it could be him. I could save myself, and die somewhere else, safe and undefiled...or I could save the memory of Colonnello. I could protect what he stood for. I could save something that was good and pure in the world._

_I forgot how to be selfish for one moment in my life._

Mammon was dead. The coward that had run from his responsibilities, from the first people that had ever tried to care about him. The selfish, greedy creature that had hidden behind lies. This was Viper now, crawling across the ground, pitiful as can be, just trying to reach the body of his friend. In a moment, he had made it. He pressed his body against the lifeless corpse of the other, one hand moving, finding the cold metal of a gun. Remembering how to use it. Knowing what he had to do.

"It's so cute how you think there's anything you can do to save yourself, little baby~"

He opened the box, using his own body to obscure the motion. Hid the pacifier within. It was safe now, locked up. He wouldn't let that bastard have it, wouldn't let him defile everything that Colonnello was, everything he stood for. The existence of this pacifier, the burden that should've been Lal's to take, the story of a life full of smiles and sacrifices.

"Hnf...I never said..."

The metal is warm. It's like a heartbeat. It's kindness, a smile. Viper's sure that Colonnello wouldn't mind. He's just borrowing it. Just for a minute.

"...I never said I was going to try to save myself."

The moment he sent the pacifier, he let go of his selfishness. He killed Viper now. All that remained was a scared little girl, Innya, drifting through the lonely spaces of death.

She put it to her head and pulled the trigger.

_I can't explain death. I feel that no matter how hard I tried, no words would make you fully understand the state that I was in. And who knows if it's the same for everyone else. Maybe this was a special death—the death of an Arcobaleno. This was a mind lost in the spaces of existence._

_And then I was no longer wandering. But once I was back, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who I was. Mammon had died. Viper had died. All that was left was the girl. All that had been brought back was her._

_I wonder, now, if it's because she was who I was meant to be from the beginning. Maybe Viper was just my excuse to hide what I'd done, just as Mammon was a cover for the relationships I'd built with the other Arcobaleno. Or maybe, more to the point, there was no difference between any of them at all. I was just lying to myself. I said that Innya was too weak, and built Viper to replace her...but she was always at the core. She was always the weakness hiding in my heart. She was the one who remembered how to trust, the one that held Colonnello close one night and spilled all her darkest secrets. She was the one who remembered how to love, the one who had crawled into bed with a prince just for the sake of being held. The one who smacked an old friend on the head and reminded him that the life he was living would not make the one he loved proud. The one who avoided seeing the rain as often as she could, ever fearful that he would remember her favorite drink, or her favorite color, or the fact that she loved stuffed animals more than anything in the world._

_Innya was the keeper of the soul. Of the heart. Of the whole being. But that didn't make Viper and Mammon any less real. They were just parts. Parts that I'd kept separate. Parts that needed to come back together again._

_And that's how it happened. I never mentioned it to anyone other than Bel, never made the verbal distinction that I was a girl again. But I decided at some point that I was. Even if the parts were all different, even if I was male on some level, I decided that I was going to accept Innya a little bit more._

_And you know the amazing thing? It hasn't made me any less. I still feel like the person I've always been—Viper, Mammon, whatever you want to call me. I just feel like myself. I'm not the mask I choose to wear anymore._

_I'm just me._

"VOOIIII!"

A hand came down on the bed next to the Arcobaleno, shifting the bed that she had so comfortably curled up in. She blinked her eyes up at her commander, tilting her head.

"Can I help you, Squalo?"

"You've been back for four days and all you've done is lay here in your bed! Start earning your keep again, you brat!"

Mammon pulled herself up and tilted her head once more, blinking at Squalo from behind tired eyes. For the most part, she was okay. Just a little tired and recovering, that's all. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands, pulling her hood further down once she was done.

While she didn't always feel the need to hide her eyes anymore, it was a matter of habit. Besides, Belphegor loved her eyes, liked keeping them himself...not to mention he had commented on the fact that they were the only part of her features that usually gave away any of her gender ambiguity. She liked to keep it simple—since she really was neither male nor female, she didn't want anyone to have any hints. Be they correct or not. It was for the best if, for the sake of remaining a Varia officer, she was just the same old male Mammon she'd always been.

"Listen!" Squalo leaned in closer, which wasn't necessary because he was already yelling, but obviously it was just how he wanted to be, "Even if Fran is still around, we all would much prefer you at least keep working! You're not as-"

"-annoying?" Mammon asked, lips curling into the quickest smirk possible. Fran did have a way about him—like he was constantly aware of what the worst possible thing he could say at any given moment was. Or maybe it was that he was unaware. Mammon still hadn't had enough time to figure out if the boy _enjoyed_ everyone wanting him dead, or if he was just unable to filter his comments.

Either way, Mammon only found it amusing.

"Get your lazy ass out here and accept a mission or two, you freeloader!"

"Hnf." She pulled herself to a standing position, using her levitation to hide the fact that she wobbled just a bit, and straightened up. "No need to be so bossy. Feed me and I'll take a mission or two."

"Voi! I'm not going to-"

"Carry me to the kitchen."

"No way in hell!"

"Then I guess I could just lay back down..."

Squalo picked the child up roughly and shoved her under his arm like a sack of potatoes. "Just this once." He commented gruffly.

"Of course." She snickered, wiggling to get a little more comfortable in his abrasive grasp.

The second they reached the table, he dumped her.

"Be gentle with that!" a voice from across the table snapped, "That's the prince's Mammon."

"Then you carry _it_ around the house!"

Arms clapped onto her shoulders and she looked up to see Lussuria in an apron. "Don't mind them~ I won't let either of those shit heads ruin our nice family dinner~"

"Yeaaaaah. Lussu-nee is making sleepy-predecessor-san a welcome home cake..."

"VOI! You weren't supposed to give that away, dumbass, it was supposed to be a surprise!"

"The only thing surprising in this room is that you're even more annoying than usual, commander."

"Hnf...that toad is ruining Mammon's welcome home party."

"Geeze, senpai, could you keep your knives out of me at the dinner table?"

_That night, while everyone was busy being their usual, clueless selves, I was thinking. Every time someone got angry, or made Lussuria laugh. Every time Squalo shouted obscenities at Bel, or got nailed in the head with something thrown by Xanxus. Every time little things like that happened, I remembered that I really, truly do love this place._

_As stupid as that sounds._

_We're dysfunctional. But we're the only family I've got. The only people that care about me, even a little. The only people I care about, even a little. I realized that, if I had to continue living this pitiful existence, there was no where else I would rather be._

_No one I'd rather be with than my boys. And just so you know, you're included in that. Now...I think you're ready to leave, so go. You've heard my story. Don't ever share it with anyone._

"Lussuria isn't home." she said with a sigh, coming over and running her fingers over the knife wounds in the young boy's back. "But I can at least disinfect these and wrap them up."

"No need, Mammon-san." Fran said with a shrug, voice muffled by the couch. He bent an arm awkwardly to give the Arcobaleno a little wave, and a thumbs up, "I'm A-OK."

Mammon sighed, hiking up Fran's shirt anyway. "I'm dressing these, tadpole, just hold still."

"Not going anywhere, predecessor-san."

She grabbed a cloth and some disinfectant, and started going to town. Part of her considered having a talk with Bel about his blatant abuse of the poor little tadpole...but a different part of her piped in that it probably would have absolutely no effect whatsoever. In fact, it was more likely that Bel would decide Fran was a bad influence on 'his sweet little Mammon~' and torture him even more.

Predictable. Mammon let out a sigh, frowning, and went back to focusing on cleaning up those wounds.

"Heeeey, Mammon-san," Fran had yet to move his face from it's 'comfortable' position of planted straight into the couch cushion.

"Yes, tadpole?"

"What's your story, anyway? Tell me about your life."

She thought about it for a moment. Tell him the story of her life? So few people knew it. But, strange as it may be, she felt that maybe he wouldn't be such a bad choice in the way of people to tell. She stopped cleaning out his wounds, and grabbed some gauze and soothing antibacterial cream to finish dressing them.

"You really want to know?" Mammon asked with a soft laugh, and Fran managed to turn his head a little more, seeming to be actually attentive, "Let me start this off by saying that, in the beginning, I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just a child—hurt, abused, confused beyond words. I never understood. I couldn't fathom why everyone hated me so much, why no one wanted anything to do with me. I didn't realize that my mother's soft words were laced with hatred, didn't realize that what my father was doing was wrong. I didn't understand that the other children were just acting as their parents would have them act.

I didn't get any of it. I was just trying to live, and no one would let me. All I wanted to do was exist."

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><p><strong>AN: **DID YOU SEE THAT COMING? Haaa, if you think about it, this story goes on forever and eeeveeer. Reviews if you feel like it~ I'd love to know how you felt about my rather...colorful head cannon. Any questions/concerns I'll address as best I can.


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